AU: Someone Listens
by britt.ravenclawed
Summary: (AU: alternate universe) Sherlock is listened to when Moriarty makes his first kill. Sherlock gets a lot of attention, and as time goes, is offered to join the police, but decides to be a consulting detective.


_Sherlock is listened to when Moriarty makes his first kill. Sherlock gets a lot of attention, and as time goes, is offered to join the police, but decides to be a consulting detective._

Sherlock's police radio went off in mother's kitchen. "There's been a drowning at the pool. " Eight year old Sherlock jumped, and with his dirt ridden hands, turned the volume. "Sherlock! turn that down." Mycroft called. "There's been a death!" Mycroft walked in the kitchen, clad with striped pajamas, and loafer slippers. "You'll wake mum." Sherlock scowled, and continued listening to the radio. " Carl Powers was wearing tennis shoes when he drowned." Sherlock stated. He hopped down off the counter. "Mycroft, might I borrow your computer?" "If you really must." Sherlock smiled as the laptop started. "I always love a good mystery." Red beard trotted in from the back doggie door. "Hello, Red beard." Red beard licked Sherlock's hand and sat down at his feet. "Sherlock, sometimes I worry for you." Mycroft mumbled as walked towards the stairs. Sherlock ignored Mycroft as the laptop brought up the search engine. His tiny hands raced across the board to type in the correct words to find exactly what he was searching for.

Later that night, the report on the drowning came out in the papers. "Boy drowning pronounced...accident?" Sherlock's face crinkled in confusion. Mycroft walked calmly to the fridge. "Accidents happen, Sherlock. It doesn't always have to be a mystery, or even a murder." "So you think it was murder, too?" Mycroft half turned. He looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "No, Sherlock. It was a drowning, a mere accident. Leave it alone, Sherlock." Mycroft sauntered off with nothing in hand but a slice of chocolate cake. "Hey, Mycroft?", Sherlock called. "Hmmm?" His cheeks were stuffed with the cake, and frosting was around the edges of his lips. "Ease off the cake, would you?" Mycroft scowled and walked away, towards his room. Sherlock paced the kitchen floor, mimicking the police that he sometimes saw on the tellie. It had sort of become a habit of his. He picked up the phone, and dialed the police.

"Hello? Yes. My name's Sherlock Holmes." The police on the other line spoke up.

"Hello, Sherlock. Are your parents home?"

"No…"

"Then, why are you calling?"

"I thought Carl's death was peculiar. I thought I might help."

"Sherlock, how old are you?"

"I'm eight years old, sir."

"I'm sorry, but unless you have a tip, you can't be much help. Good bye."

"Wait! Sir, please."

"what is it?"

"I don't think he drowned. I think that was a just an after effect of some poison that the boy may have had."

"We ran the autopsy, and no poison came up."

"Just look again, please."

"Goodbye, boy."

The line went dead, and Sherlock's shoulders slumped. He ran up the stairs to his room, and tossed himself across the bed.

There was a knock at his door. "Sherlock?" He flipped over to see his dad standing in the doorway. "yes, dad?" Sherlock's dad walked in, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Mycroft told me." Sherlock sat up. "What did he tell you?" At that moment, Red beard ran in, and jumped onto the bed. "He told me that you thought there was more to this death." Sherlock nodded his head. The curls on top of his bounced as he did so. Sherlock's dad smiled and ruffled the curls. "I think you might be on to something, dear boy." Sherlock's face filled with shock and surprise. His dad winked, got off the bed, and went out the door. Sherlock felt confused, and didn't like the feeling. "I'm the smart one.", he mumbled to himself. Theories on how Carl might've died filled Sherlock's mind as he fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, Sherlock awoke sunlight streaming through his window. He rolled off the bed, and fell in a heap onto the rug below him. "Ooof." He got up, and walked down the stairs.

"Sherlock, got any ideas?"

"Hmm?" The toast he had was now stuffed in his mouth. Sherlock's eyes glimmered with hope and wonder.

"The mystery." His dad smiled. Sherlock swallowed.

"Oh, that. No. "

"Maybe you can ask your friends at school."

"I don't have friends. You know this." Sherlock's mom looked at his dad. "I'm gonna be late. Bye mum, by dad." He kissed both of them on the cheek, and left.


End file.
